Valentine's Crux
by Morhighan
Summary: Vincent's 13th Valentine's Day in Eighth grade. He just wants to stay home, but instead faces the fangirls--with the the help of a mysterious Senior and a Sophomore from the highschool. HXL LXV HXV in humorous, not serious settings.


**[μ-εγλ 19620214 **

_**6:13 PM**_

Dinner at the ShinRa manor that evening was somewhat quiet. It was February 14th and everyone was relatively irritable. Gast and Lucrecia were both exhausted from the attempts at trying to make Hojo and Vincent behave civilly towards each other. The topic of Valentine's Day was enough to cause more interesting verbal sparring than the regular run-of-the-mill bickering.

"Jerk," said Vincent.

"Turk," Hojo pointed out as a rejoinder.

"Scientist," aimed back at Hojo.

"Prick," aimed back at Vincent.

"Stick."

"I know I'm thin, you twit."

"Nasty piece of--"

"Boys!"Lucrecia interjected.They both glared at her for a moment, and then glanced away sheepishly.

It was deathly silent for the rest of dinner as they glared at each other from across the table, each sizing the other up.

Gast cleared his throat. "So how were all of your days?"

"Fairly well," Lucrecia answered absently, her eyes trained on the other two men.

"Good. And you, Vincent? Hojo?"

"_Horrible_—Less—_like every_—than—_Valentine's Day_—satisfactory—_before it_."

They both glared at the other, realizing that they had spoken in unison.

"Surely there has been a worse Valentine's Day in your lives?"

"_Grade_—High—S_c_h_o_o_l_," again in unison.

Lucrecia grinned a bit. "So what happened?"

"I haven't much to say other than that school girls are frighteningly persistent," Hojo retorted, dead pan.

Vincent didn't say anything, but a slight flush tinged his pale cheeks as he remembered Valentine's Day, 1949. His exterior became calm once more as an idea hit him. He stared Hojo in realization and recognition. _Could it have been…?_ Hojo stared back, uncertain as to why he was under sudden scrutiny.

"Well, for me it was in eighth grade," Vincent began. A smirk played on his lips. He couldn't help it. "The girls were particularly bad that year. They had driven me out of the library. I took the advice of an upper-class-woman and had hidden in the gym, a neutral ground between the high school and the grade school as you'll remember."

He paused to admire the fierce look on Hojo's face as Hojo took the hint had an awful epiphany. Vincent's smirk grew. He had the scientist. Horror, disgust, contempt, and anxiety shone on Hojo's face. It was quite the sight as the man's face turned forbiddingly wan.

Hojo was gripping his utensils in a way that suggested he wanted nothing more but to lunge across the table and insert them into Vincent's trachea. Vincent heard a quiet scuffing under the table as the Hojo's considerably short leg's tried reaching to connect with his shin to stop him from telling the story.

The staring contest lasted but a few moments before Vincent resumed telling his story.

**[μ-εγλ 19490214 **

_**5:29 AM**_

Vincent woke up before his father came to wake him. It was about a half hour before he usually woke up. Perhaps his dread for the coming day was what had woken him. He grumbled as he sat up. Valentine's Day. The most hated annual thing he had experienced. He so far had survived (barely) through the holiday 12 times. This was the thirteenth time, and in eight months he'd be the same number of years old.

Due to the unlucky number, he had decided to stay home and skip school. Surely the holiday would be enjoyable if spent alone? How Vincent wished he could be so blissfully ignorant of the holiday, how he wished he could have a different name. In Kindergarten the children didn't know the last names of their classmates, so the teasing was avoided, but not for long.

Sadly, this was the 8th grade. A time when people of the opposite gender were extremely goofy around each other. Especially on this day.

Vincent silently cursed his classmate's hormones. While he was at it, he cursed the fact that it was a patriarchal world. Otherwise he wouldn't have been stuck with that ridiculous last name. He did feel partially bad though, that the memory martyred deaths of people who had lived some hundred years before had been turned into a horrible commercial ploy. It couldn't be helped, though.

Vincent glanced at the clock. 5:45. Just enough time to make a plan to play hooky for the day.

_**6:00 AM**_

Grimoire stood outside of his son's bedroom door. "Vincent," he called in as his knuckles rapped lightly on the wooden frame. "Time to get up."He listened for a moment, deciding whether or not to call again when a weak cough racked from inside of the room. "Vincent? Was that you? Are you feeling well?" Though it did not show in his voice, a smile played upon his lips.

"I think I have a cold. Maybe I should skip school today?" The thick reply came. Vincent was holding his nose closed for the effect of someone who had their head plugged up with snot. The effectiveness of this act was ruined by the hope that rang through his voice.

Grimoire couldn't help chuckling. "Do you think I don't know what day it is, son?"

Silence.

"I know it's difficult, but why don't you give it a chance?" He ignored the protests that came from the other side of the door. He did notice, however, that the stuffiness had miraculously evaporated from his son's voice. "You know, your name means 'the one who conquers,' in the Cetra language. Wouldn't you rather be that, instead of 'the conquered one'?" His voice was filled with humor.

No answer, and then…

"Do I have to?"

"I'm afraid so. We've been over this since you were seven. Now, up, unless you want to get dragged to school in you pajamas."

_**6:17 AM**_

"Try to make the best of it," Grimoire told Vincent as he dropped him off at the school gate. Vincent grumbled something unintelligible and Grimoire chuckled, waving as he walked away.

Vincent shifted his weight uneasily at the prospect of going inside. It wasn't worth it, really. He readjusted his bag on his right shoulder, and then took the first step towards his doom.

---

The Shinra family's company, ShinRa Manufacturing Works, had some unknown power that led to their domination over most of the things on Gaia. (Excluding, of course, Wutai.) To put themselves in good public light, they had founded a large school district that included a high school and an elementary school. The college campus was set across the street from the combined. The high school and elementary school were separate except for the neutral path between the schools that led to the Library, which connected the schools, and Gym, which separated the schools. Both of these were shared by the schools.

Elementary kids rarely went over to hang out at the high school. For recess they had a play yard and generally avoided the gym and library if they could help it, as the highs-school-ers basically owned the place. (High-school-ers are terrifyingly scary beasts, after all.) Sometimes the elementary kids went if they had a friend, but there even were the kids who excelled so much that they had to take classes over there. It was rare, of course. The last time it had happened was when a 7th grader had skipped two grades and became a freshman at the high school. That had been a few years back, Vincent realized glumly. He had been in the 5th grade, was it? The kid, a senior now, had also gotten into the advanced science classes.

Vincent had now made his way into the classroom, his muscles tightening with dread. He didn't know why; nobody would be here but the teachers. It was too early for his classmates to be at school. The only reason _he_ was here was because his father was teaching a class at the college. Something about the Ancients, if Vincent remembered correctly. He slid the door open and as he did he was filled with relief. No one had come yet, other than the teacher, who looked up from his work and smiled at Vincent. For all of the previous school years Vincent had women teachers. They had all forced him to comply with the Holiday; just because it was so _'cute_' that he celebrated the accursed tradition. He hadn't succeeded in escaping yet, but surely a male teacher would sympathize with him? Surely the teacher would see reason? He fervently hoped so.

"Sir?" he trailed nervously as he made his way up to the teacher's desk. "I'm afraid I don't feel too well today," he told the teacher, playing the same sick card as he had on his father. "Might I go to the nurse's office?"

A faint smile played on the teacher's lips. "Caught a bug have we, Mr. Valentine?" he asked, not paying attention to the flinch his emphasis on the boy's name had procured.

Vincent said nothing. On the inside he prayed that the teacher would acquiesce before his classmates started to file in.

"I understand. Go ahead," the teacher was incredibly lenient and well meaning. "I won't tell if you don't report to the office," he added. If this was the kid from the incident the year before, he didn't want anything catastrophic that might occur on his head. Let the nurse take the blame for being negligent. Besides, girls with crushes at that age were exceptionally tedious.

Vincent thanked him and turned out of the classroom. Surely he could make it to the "nurse's office" unnoticed if he ran, right? He turned the corner and came to a dead stop. At the other end of the hallway, a certain gaggle of girls had gathered as they waited to ambush him that morning. _They had come early to corner him! _He grabbed the nearest door, which was about a foot to his right, and dove in praying that the girls hadn't heard him or noticed.

He sighed with relief as he realized what room he had escaped into. The library. As if _those_ girls would come in here. They weren't that desperate were they? Books weren't _in_, so those girls could not bother being around such _un-cool_ things. What good fortune for Vincent. He could hide out here for a while, and if the girls were that desperate, he could hide between the shelves and make his escape to—where? It would take some thought, but he'd figure something out. He wandered through the rows of books, aimlessly examining different covers while keeping an eye trained on the door. He couldn't be too safe—after all, school started in a half hour.

_**6:32 AM**_

"Good Morning."

Vincent nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the soft, clear, female voice. He turned, knocking over whoever had spoken; she had been standing right behind him. The thud of books hitting the floor sounded as he turned to the girl, who was laughing good-naturedly about it.

"I seem to have startled you," the girl said, smiling at him as she stood and recollected the fallen books. He knelt to help her. She had been carrying a lot of books.

Vincent stuttered an apology. He hadn't realized that anyone else was in here; she hadn't made a sound as she came up from behind him.

"Hiding from your fans?" She asked with a grin, accepting the apology and the books back. She chuckled when he nodded. Not giggled—chuckled. Vincent got the distinct feeling that she wasn't insane like the rest of her gender. "I had heard a rumor about some poor kid that got harassed on this day, but I shrugged it off as a rumor."

There was an awkward silence that Vincent used as an excuse to pick up and hand her the last book from the floor. He caught the title on the cover. _Cetra Writings: Knowledge of the Ancients _was the title. Now he realized why she seemed vaguely familiar. At the beginning of the year she, a sophomore from the high school, had been called to the stage as she was presented an award for a dramatic reading of Cetran poetry. Vincent had gone because it had been his father to translate the original text.

"Oh, thank you," she took the book from him. "I've got to go check these out now."

Suddenly there was a noise outside of the door. A high-pitch noise. _Giggling!_ It was muffled by the door—Vincent's only form of protection from his female classmates.

"Why don't you go out the high school's side door? I won't tell," the girl suggested with a glance at the door.

_There is something sensible in her eyes,_ he thought, nodding his thanks and heading towards the door quickly. By the time the girls outside had come in, he was gone.

_**6:44 AM**_

Vincent ran through the unfamiliar halls towards the gym. The gym was an excellent place for hiding; it had all sorts of nooks and crannies. Also, it was a neutral ground. The grade school was dangerous due to his unfortunate popularity with the female student body. The high school was dangerous because he was an underclassman. The last safe place was the gym, as the library had been invaded. He slipped out of the building. So far he had gone unnoticed, as most of the people were too busy snogging to care about the panicking 8th grader that was practically flying down the hall.

Now out in the open ground of the pathway between the schools, Vincent made his way hurriedly past the windows of both schools to the gym. He slipped into the gym and checked the area cautiously. After all, one never knew would they could stumble upon in the there. After deeming the underside of the bleachers free of making-out couples, he slipped underneath and behind one of the metal pillars that held up the gym's ceiling.

There were two large pillars in the center of walls on each of the gym's sides. These were hollowed out and faced each other about three feet, as the walls that the bleachers rested on needed more support. There were other pillars located in the corners of the rooms, but they did not hold the advantage of being behind the bleachers and having two hollowed out niches across from each other that provided excellent cover from female classmates.

Vincent checked his watch and pondered the likeliness of his attending class. He probably wouldn't make it in or out of the nurse's office in one piece anyway. Going there meant risking his fans while coming out the nurse would berate him. The old biddy never accepted reasonable pleas to let people on Vincent's situation sit class out. Briefly he wondered what he would do with his free time and what excuse he'd come up with for not getting a chance to visit the nurse. She'd make him go to class and there would be no hope of escape after that.

A scraping noise caught his attention. Someone had entered the gym.

_6:49 AM_

Who ever it was listened as cautiously as Vincent had, and then hurried under the bleachers. Was it possible that someone was being hunted—the same as he? When the person got to Vincent's hiding place, they had to stifle an oath as someone had beaten them to the spot. The young male wavered a moment, considering the safety, or lack thereof, of the outside compared to invading the space across from Vincent.

The door opened a third time that morning, this time allowing entrance to a group of girls. Their babble met Vincent's ears.

"Are you sure?" "Positive, I saw him come in here!" And so on.

The male slipped into the empty space, facing Vincent. The bespectacled youth was a Senior, Vincent noted from observing the high-school-er's uniform. The senior pressed a finger to his lips to signal Vincent to be quiet. Vincent nodded at him. It was a tight fit if the both of them had not been so thin—fitness in Vincent's case; the senior was skeletal—they both wouldn't have fit in the first place.

It was then that one of the girls deemed it appropriate to search for the senior under the bleachers. Vincent and the senior could hear her crawling towards them. Terror masked both of their faces at her approach, both of their minds reeling to find an escape. The Senior came up with something first it seemed, as he put his glasses away in his shirt pocket and undid his long hair, letting it cascade and face as he leaned over.

"I need you to kiss the wall—quickly." The senior hissed.

"What?" Vincent asked, confused.

"The Senior glared sideways at the approaching girl. "No time," he muttered. Placing his right arm as a shield over the both of them, he leaned over the eighth grader, who flushed uncomfortably at the close proximity of the Senior, whose hair now covered both of their faces with the nearness. "Just go with it," he whispered to the Eighth grader.

"Wha—mmf?!" Vincent's question was cut off as the senior placed his left hand over his mouth. The right still covered their faces, along with the senior's mass of ebony hair.

"Oh…! I'm…sorry," the girl said, peering into the alcove after hearing their mutterings. She hadn't under stood what they were saying, but the sight of her favorite male classmate stooped over someone with his glasses off, hair undone, and at a close proximity shocked her. She certainly hadn't pegged him as the type—he had someone? She couldn't see who he was bent over, but she began apologizing profusely, trying to catch a glimpse at the senior's apparent love interest, as she could not think of any other reason as to why he was over someone, and under the bleachers, too!

The senior pretended jumped, as if surprised by the girl's sudden appearance. "Excuse me," he said his voice displeased. "But we're busy right now. Go and tell your friends that I'm not interested as I'm taken. I'm sure you've observed that?" He leaned closer to the lowerclassmen to further obscure the boy from her view.

She stared at him aghast and heart broken.

"Leave us. Now," He told her commandingly. After a few shocked moments she left to go tell her friends what she had seen.

_**6:52 AM**_

The warning bell rang, scattering the girls—presumably to their classes. But Vincent and the upperclassmen didn't move from their place under the bleachers. The senior resumed his place across from Vincent, who sat up feeling slightly violated. There was a small chance of ambush should they try to make their escape too soon, and after that display of decent acting, neither of the boys wanted to be seen under the bleachers or in the gym together.

"What was that?"

"That was me saving our arses, kid," the senior growled moodily.

"By pretending to snog me?!" Vincent asked in disbelief.

"Get over it. Also, tell anyone what happened today and I will hunt you down. After that I will steal everything dear from you, leave you in agony and then kill you. And if I figure out a way to bring you back to life I'll make sure to, just so that you'll be miserable for the rest of your wretched existence."

Vincent stared at him, eyes agog. The threat was so extreme. "I'm not risking my chances against you, so I promise not to tell anyone." He told the other in slight disbelief, still trying to fathom what had just happened to him in the last seven minutes. All he came up with was that Valentine's Day _sucked._

The senior was replacing his hair and glasses to their normal states while Vincent observed him. This kid was definitely not in the "cool" group, so why were the girls chasing him so fervently? He followed the guidelines of the uniform policy and eve tucked his shirt in. The large round glasses hinted blatantly that Vincent's assumptions were correct.

After both studied each other for a moment, they looked to the door, each speculating their own safety.

"So," Vincent volunteered, still uncertain of the senior before him. It seemed that they weren't going to move for a while. "They drove you here too?"

"Better than up a tree," the senior said, scoffing at the ridiculously obvious answer.

Vincent stared at him. "You're the one they drove up a tree last year?"

He was examining his watch through the strained light, and made another scoffing sound. "Yes, of course. Anyway—late for class. At least it's ethics." He muttered, as if to himself, and let off a sigh. "Stupid requirements. It's so pointless. Both the class and this holiday," he added as an after thought.

"Agreed. At least this is your last year. I doubt they allow this absurdity in college." A bit of envy hinted through Vincent's voice.

The senior chucked ruefully. "It wouldn't be like this for me if I hadn't skipped two grades and gone into advanced science classes." As he said this he brushed his glasses up his nose. "I can't think of any other reason as to why." The insult to himself was said easily, as if it were a fact. It was true though.

"Then you really trashed the entire amount of Valentine's cards you got last year?"

The senior nodded. "Weren't you listening earlier? I said I was taken—not interested."

Vincent saw an opening and dove for it, slightly tired of the senior's attitude. "I thought you said you couldn't find any reason as to why a girl would like you."

The senior realized his mistake and scowled. "It's not that she's really with me—I severely doubt she recognizes my existence—"

"Ah, but your not interested in others, are you? So, what prevents you from speaking to her?"

"None of your concern."

"What class is she in?"

"I said it wasn't any of your business."

Vincent bothered him relentlessly until the senior gave up.

"Sophomore, alright?"

"Meaning that she used to be in your grade, right?" Vincent thought back to his encounter in the library that morning. "Is she the girl who studies the Cetra?"

The senior stared at him, mortified.

"Ah, seems I pegged it. What's her name?" Vincent was enjoying this immensely.

The senior coughed. "Look." He trailed uncertainly, and the smirk faded from Vincent's face. He hadn't offended the senior somehow, had he? "You were the one who caused the big incident last year weren't you?" The senior had used Vincent's guilty pause to get one up on him. Vincent was about to protest this when the senior asked, "Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"You kept every Valentine you received and answered them all on White day. Yet you chose none of the girls. Why?"

"Well, it would have been rude not to, I—"

The senior's smirk widened as he checked his watch again. The tardy bell had long since pealed.

"By now those troublesome girls should have left," he said, interrupting Vincent. We might as well go face class or they'll find us before long. I'd suggest you claim—" he stopped dead before opening the door. When a sudden movement appeared at the window he shoved Vincent away from the window and into the sports supplies. "An ambush," the senior hissed, and Vincent tried to appear smaller as the door opened.

Girly squeals were emitted from the doorway as they saw him. "Who's the lucky one?" The senior was bombarded by the girls and their questions. They all wanted to know who the girl that had been under the bleachers with him was. They took no notice of Vincent, who was trapped in the gym equipment racks with the look of a dear in headlights.

"I'm afraid she left the side door, ladies; now if you'll please, I need to get to my next class," the senior attempted to smooth talk and push his way out of the throng at the same time. He spared a last glance at Vincent before bolting out into the pathway between the schools.

Vincent sighed after the girls had left. He had been so tense and still that they hadn't seen him. Then again their small brains were only capable of thinking about the senior at that moment.

_Was his hair really down and his glasses off, like that girl said? _They all wondered, stalking the upperclassman through the halls. They had all wondered what the above combination looked like. They were sure that he only wore the dorky glasses to try and not be popular.

Vincent stood, sure that they had all gone. "Every man for himself, I guess," he sighed.

**[μ-εγλ 19490314 **

_**6:25**_

It was White Day. The chaos of the previous month had died down, but Vincent still had a lot of gifts to give back along with the standard "sorry, I'm not interested" letters. He had sent these off in the post three days before, so there was no doubt the girls had gotten the letters on time. He would be getting a lot of glares today—from jealous guys and angry hormonal girls.

He had only one box to hand deliver today, a first in all of his years of going to school. This one went to a girl whose name he did not know. It was wrapped in might paper and a ribbon, as per the holiday, and was equipped with a letter of thanks.

Vincent was in the library, shifting his feet nervously. He couldn't see the girl. Would she be here today?

"May I help you?" a soft voice murmured from behind him. He jumped and spun around. It was the librarian.

"There's this girl, but I don't know her name," he said, then described her to the librarian.

"So you want me to give her that? I'm surprised; she doesn't seem the type to be receiving chocolates. I'll do it, just this once though. Leave it on the table."

_**6:40 AM**_

Vincent was standing outside of the library's high school entrance. He had gone around that way to avoid his glaring classmates. Besides, he had some time to kill before class. He was staring up at the cloudy sky when he noticed a figure on the high school's roof. He couldn't see who it was, but the person was watching him. The person pulled something out of their pocket and began to scribble madly on it. The person finished the note, and then dropped it intentionally. The crumpled paper floated down towards Vincent, before hitting him lightly on the head. After making sure it had gotten to Vincent, the figure turned and walked away. Vincent realized that there was something familiar about that lanky stride.

Vincent looked down at the paper and un-crumpled it to read it.

"Hey kid, Thanks for listening to me and sharing the hiding place last month," was all it said, accompanied by an unintelligible scrawl at the end of the message.

He looked the letter over. Short and to the point. It was definitely the senior. He chuckled at the passing thought. He must have just received the only White day thanks that senior had given anyone, even if it were impromptu. Grinning and laughing, he went to class. Surely next year's Valentine's Day would not be as interesting. He'd to skip.


End file.
